


tongue tied

by annalyia



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Gift Fic, Mutual Pining, Oblivious, Sharing a Bed, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29403312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annalyia/pseuds/annalyia
Summary: alistair and artemi find themselves in a predicament as they arrive at a week-long conference for their college
Relationships: Alistair/Cousland (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 4





	tongue tied

**Author's Note:**

> for my friend that i write a birthday fic for every year! this one is, as per usual, late, but that's because this story decided it needed to be 12k words instead of the usual 3k

Artemi smooths the edges of her skirt as she tries her best to suppress the deep breath she feels the need to take. “Are you sure that’s what it says?” she asks the concierge. 

The man checks his computer again, scrolling through the lists of reservations. “I’m afraid so, Ms. Cousland,” he says apologetically. “And, while I would normally do my best to make an exception for someone of your stature, I am afraid I am unable to at this time, seeing as the hotel is fully booked for this event.”

Artemi purses her lips at his comment. “It’s fine,” she says tightly before turning to her companion. “We should get going then, Alistair.” She grabs her bags off the floor and marches over to the elevator, Alistair scrambling to follow.

Once in the elevator, Artemi punches the button for the fifteenth floor before slouching against the wall and letting out an exasperated sigh. “Sorry about all of this,” she says, glancing up at Alistair. “I’m sure this isn’t exactly how you wanted to spend this week-long conference either.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Alistair says quickly, cheeks flushed a light pink. “There’s worse situations we could be stuck in.”

His optimism brings a small smile to Artemi’s face. “Thanks, I think.” Her voice is soft, the earlier encounter obviously having drained her of energy. 

No one else boards the elevator with them, so Alistair and Artemi make it to their floor quickly. Artemi, key already in hand, leads the way to hotel room number 1520. She scans the key against the lock, hears a light click, and then pushes the door open. 

It’s a very nice hotel room, even by Artemi’s high standards. There’s a cute little kitchen nook with a microwave and fridge, a big-screen TV on a large walnut wooden dresser, two wide windows with black-out curtains pulled to the sides, a sizeable closet with an ironing board, and one solitary queen-sized bed.

“No couch?” Alistair jokes.

“Apparently not,” Artemi replies drily. 

“I’ll sleep on the floor, don’t worry,” Alistair says as he unpacks his bag and carefully places his clothes in one half of the dresser. 

“Now, there’s no need for that,” Artemi says quickly. “We don’t have anything to make it comfortable for you, and we both need to be in tip top shape for this conference.”

“It’s nothing I’m not used to,” Alistair insists.

Artemi shakes her head. “No. Sleeping on the floor is counter-productive and a non-option. And, please, don’t try arguing this anymore. I’m tired of it.”

“Okay, okay. You got it,” Alistair says. He watches Artemi Cousland out of the corner of his eye, noticing how she carefully hangs her dresses and skirts and shirts, careful not to wrinkle them. 

They’ve been student ambassadors for Warden University for three years now, and Alistair feels like he doesn’t know Artemi at all. She’s always had an air of quiet politeness around her, being perfectly diplomatic in every situation. He assumes that demeanor was bred into her, given her Cousland heritage. Her family is full of diplomats and politicians, so it would make sense.

It makes Alistair squirm as he thinks about his heritage—the Theirin name that he doesn’t think he deserves, let alone want. Politicians and their scandals.

“So, since it’s still early enough, do you want to grab dinner at the hotel restaurant?” Artemi asks, pulling Alistair from his internal pity party.

“Dinner sounds great, yeah,” he says, standing. 

Artemi smiles. “Awesome!” She grabs a small, over the shoulder brown leather bag. She takes a moment to observe herself in the mirror; knee length skirt with button down top tucked in, and a pair of sneakers. After a moment, though, she realizes Alistair is watching and smooths the edges of her skirt again, staring pointedly at her shoes. “Let’s, um, let’s go, then.”

“Oh, um, right. Let’s go.”

Grabbing the key off the nightstand, Artemi tucks it away in her purse before walking out the door Alistair is holding open for her. Their trip down the elevator is in silence, partly because they are unsure what to say, and partly because on floor seven they are joined by four other students who all seem to know each other and are already carrying on an intense conversation when they get on the elevator. 

The hotel restaurant is fancier than Alistair is used to, but Artemi seems right at home. She smiles politely at the hostess, who, upon hearing the Cousland name, almost immediately finds them a table (much to the annoyance of a couple that looks as though they have been waiting a while). The menu they’re handed at the table has a lot of things that Alistair wouldn’t normally eat, and for prices he wouldn’t normally pay.

“The school’s paying for everything,” Artemi says.

“What?”

Artemi’s cheeks turn a cute shade of pink. “Your, um, your expression when looking at the menu. You looked concerned, so I figured it was something like that. Like I said, the school’s paying for everything, so just pick what you want.” She shrugs, turning her attention back to her menu. “We could split something, too, if that would make you feel better.” Her eyes peek up at him over her menu. “Like, maybe split an appetizer and a dessert, but get our own entrées?”

Alistair starts to decline her offer, but very quickly realizes that this is the most open Artemi has been with him before, even if she is hiding behind her hotel restaurant menu. “Sure,” he says instead. “That would be wonderful.”

Even though he can’t see most of her face, Alistair watches Artemi’s eyes crinkle as she smiles. “Cool. What sounds good to you?”

Alistair reads over the appetizers again—calamari, bruschetta, a couple kinds of soup, an ooey-gooey cheesy crab dip, and a vegetable plate with a few different sides. “Do you like crab?”

Artemi nods. “Yeah, I do, and that crab dip sounds heavenly.”

When the waiter returns, Artemi asks for an order of the crab dip and a glass of wine—pinot grigio. The waiter asks Alistair what he would like to drink, and, instead of panicking, he just chooses the same wine as Artemi. If he doesn’t like it, she obviously does, and he has no qualms sharing it with her. 

After a few moments of quiet between them, Artemi asks, “have you looked at the schedule for tomorrow?”

“Um, sort of,” Alistair answers, hand unconsciously traveling to the back of his neck. “I gave it a once-over the other day when they gave it to us, but I haven’t really taken a chance to look at it more in-depth. Why, was there something on it that looked interesting to you?”

Artemi nods. “Yeah, actually, there were a couple things. That is, um, if you don’t mind going to all the same talks and activities as me.” 

“Oh, Maker, I don’t mind that at all,” Alistair says quickly. “It’ll be nice to be around someone I actually know.”

“That’s what I was thinking, as well,” she says. “I mean, I guess I know some of the people who are here, just because of my mother and father, but not as well as I know you.”

Alistair finds himself blushing at Artemi’s last comment. As well as she knows him? He feels like he barely knows her. “What was it that interested you, again?” He asks this instead of dwelling on her words, not sure if he wants to know what they mean.

Artemi’s eyes light up and she finally stops hiding behind her menu. She pulls out her phone and brings up the week-long schedule of the Thedosian Politics and Culture Conference for Young People. “Oh! There’s a very interesting talk on the topic of ancient versus present-day Tevinter law, along with a cool demonstration of Nevarran mortalitasi. The talk looks like it’s supposed to last an hour or two, but the demonstration seems like it’s going to take up most of the afternoon. Is there anything else here that looks like something you might want to go to?” Artemi hands Alistair her phone.

“Just for tomorrow, right? We’ll figure out each day the night before?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“All right, then.” Alistair takes a moment to read over the schedule carefully, noting both of the events that Artemi wishes to attend, and finding one of his own. “Does ‘Fereldan Leadership of the Past One Hundred Years’ sound like something you would like to learn more of? According to the schedule, it should take place a couple of hours before the Tevinter one.”

“I mean, if you want to, that’s fine with me.”

“That’s not a yes.”

Artemi shrugs. “My family has been in Fereldan leadership for a lot longer than one hundred years,” she says simply. “We learn all about our family history as kids. Didn’t you—” Artemi cuts herself off rather quickly.

“No, I didn’t,” Alistair says softly. “Considering I was kept as a tight-lipped secret for a while.” He knows that Artemi didn’t mean anything by her comment, a feeling that is confirmed by the barely masked mortification on the girl’s face. “It’s fine, by the way,” he reassures her. “You’re not the first person to forget, and you probably won’t be the last, either. Especially considering we’re at a conference _full_ of people who know or least know of my father.”

“Neither of us will be able to keep a very low profile, will we?” Artemi muses. “Like when the concierge said people of my stature, I _know_ he just saw my last name and based how he acted off that. It drives me _crazy_. Fergus doesn’t seem to mind it too much, but I guess he’s used to it as the oldest child.”

“That’s the nice thing about being kept out of the public eye for most of my life,” Alistair says. “Cailin and my father got all the attention. And then, of course, my lovely aunt just had to go and tell people about my parentage.”

Artemi watches Alistair carefully. She notes that he doesn’t seem like he hates his aunt for what she did, but it’s very obvious that Alistair much preferred to be out of the spotlight. “You’re doing well, you know,” she says. “I’m sure the Theirin name isn’t one to take on lightly, but you haven’t done anything that would bring it shame.”

Alistair frowns. “I’d certainly hope not, other than my birth,” he says. “Considering who my father is has only been public knowledge for, what, four years now? Yeah, senior year of high school.”

Artemi remembers the news headlines well; “Secret Love Child of Maric Theirin Brought to Light” and other harsh and incriminating things. Artemi also remembers her father using that scandal as an example to her and Fergus of what _not_ to do in their future careers. 

“So, you lived with your aunt and uncle?” Artemi asks.

Alistair nods. “Yeah, my Uncle Eamond and Aunt Isolde. I’m sure Isolde didn’t _mean_ to do what she did, but it still happened. I had a pretty good life growing up with them, but I’m pretty sure Isolde got tired of the rumors that I was Eamond’s child by a woman other than her.” Artemi arches her eyebrows at that. “Oh, you didn’t know? Yeah, the whole reason my aunt said anything is because there was some pretty nasty stuff said about her and how she and my uncle had a child _after_ he had one with someone else, almost as if to pity her. I mean, it was bound to happen anyway, if that makes any sense? My mother, whoever she is, might have said something, or someone who knew about Maric’s past could have easily told Cailan or the press or anyone else, really, about the illicit love child of Maric Theirin.” He shrugs, but is interrupted by the waiter bringing back the crab dip and wine. 

“Are the two of your ready for entrées, yet?” the waiter asks. 

“Not quite yet, sorry,” Artemi says. “Give us just a couple more minutes, please?”

The waiter nods. “Absolutely.”

“I think I’m gonna get the pumpkin ravioli,” Artemi says after browsing the entrée portion of the menu again. “It looks like I can add a duck breast or some salmon to it, too.”

“I’d add the salmon,” Alistair says immediately. “I feel like that would go better than the duck.”

“Sounds like a good idea. Have you figured out what you want yet?”

“I’ll probably just get the steak,” he says. 

“Steak is always a safe choice.”

“But we should probably eat this crab dip before it gets cold. I’m sure the waiter will be back once he sees that we’ve put down our menus.”

Artemi giggles, grabbing a piece of toasted bread and almost completely submerging it in the crab dip. “Probably.”

The crab dip, along with the entrées that they both order, is delicious. Alistair enjoys the wine as well, along with the slight flush it brings to Artemi’s face. He knows she’s not drunk, but he likes how she loses a little bit of her formality. 

“Okay, and hear me out, what if we got _two_ desserts,” Artemi suggests. “I know, I know, I said that we could share one so that it wouldn’t be so expensive, but all of these desserts look amazing, and I’m not entirely sure I could choose just one.”

Alistair is finding it very hard to disagree with her. All the desserts _do_ look amazing. “We could get two and split them? That way we aren’t completely going against the original idea.”

Artemi flashes him a playful grin that reaches her eyes and makes them shine. “I think this cheesecake looks delicious, what about you?”

“How does bread pudding sound?”

“Mm, I _love_ bread pudding!”

Alistair chuckles. 

Artemi finishes her third glass of wine as the waiter reappears to take their dessert orders. She waves him away as he offers to refill her glass again. “No, thank you,” she says. “I would, however, love a decaf cappuccino with dessert. Which, by the way, if we could please get an order of both the cheesecake and the bread pudding?”

The waiter nods. “Absolutely, madam. Would you also enjoy a coffee, sir?”

Alistair tries not to cringe as the waiter calls him sir. He understands why, but he’s still not used to it. “That would be wonderful, thank you.”

The waiter bows slightly to both of them before returning to the kitchens. 

“Our first talk, the one you wanted to go to, is at nine tomorrow morning, right?” Artemi asks. The flush on her cheeks has darkened a little bit, but Alistair can tell that even a good wine won’t deter her. 

“Indeed.”

Artemi checks her watch—a cute accessory with a brown leather strap and brushed nickel face. “Okay, well, it’s almost eight, so I think that this dinner will be the last thing we do tonight.” She stifles a yawn, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. “It’s been a long day.”

Alistair finds himself yawning as well. “That it has. Four-hour plane rides will do that to you.”

A corner of Artemi’s mouth tugs up in a smile. “That they will.”

The arrival of their desserts cut the conversation short. 

After Alistair tries the bread pudding and cheesecake, he’s very glad that Artemi suggested getting both instead of just sharing one. 

Empty plate in front of her, Artemi sips her coffee, eyes closed. “Delicious,” she says.

“I’ll have to agree.”

The waiter returns once again after Artemi has finished her coffee. They have a short discussion about adding the cost of dinner to the hotel room bill before he thanks them for dining and hopes that they enjoyed their food. 

“We should get going,” Artemi says a few minutes later, after she and Alistair have had ample time to allow their food to settle. “I’m sure they’ll either need this table, or they’re closing soon.”

Alistair nods, standing. He tries to subtly stretch the stiffness from his muscles. Artemi giggles, watching as he does so. She stands on her tip toes, wobbling a little, and lets out a soft breath. 

“Shall we?” he asks, extending his arm to her. He noticed her falter, and wants to be sure that she doesn’t fall face-first on the floor as they try to leave. 

She eyes him slyly. “I believe we shall.” Looping her arm through his, she leads them through the tables and out of the restaurant. Her other hand comes to rest atop the one that she has on his arm, effectively cradling his arm against her.

Alistair tries to stop his brain from short-circuiting. 

Artemi has never been this comfortable, this familiar before.

And, goodness, does he like it. 

She keeps hold of him like that all the way up the elevator, down the hall, and as he opens the door to their hotel room. 

But she freezes—and so does he—when the elephant in the room once again faces them.

That single, solitary queen-sized bed. 

Artemi squeaks out something about needing to use the bathroom before sliding her arm out of Alistair’s and ducking through the door. 

He tries not to miss the weight of her arms around his.

Alistair instead uses that time to locate every pillow and blanket in the hotel room; there are two extra pillows and a large comforter in the closet. He frowns, knowing that they’re not enough for what he had in mind. 

“I know what you’re thinking.”

Alistair jumps out of his skin at Artemi’s comment, not having heard her return, dropping the pillows and blanket he was holding on the floor. 

“Oh! Sorry, sorry, sorry! I didn’t—are you okay?” She’s utterly embarrassed, fawning over Alistair to ensure she did not startle him too harshly.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, I promise,” he says, placing a hand on her shoulder to ground her. “I just didn’t know you were back. What were you saying, though?”

“You were going to make a divider on the bed, weren’t you?” she asks, indicating the fallen pillows. “Try to get enough pillows so that they were between us and we wouldn’t have to worry.”

Chagrined, Alistair rubs the back of his neck. “That was the thought, yes,” he admits.

“It’s a sweet idea,” Artemi says, “but I don’t think it’s going to work. That’s not enough pillows.”

He nods. “Yeah, I was just coming to the same conclusion when you came back.”

Artemi stares intensely at the bed, the discarded pillows, and finally Alistair. “I…trust you,” she says eventually. 

“Pardon?”

She sighs, loudly blowing the air through her lips. “I trust you,” she repeats. “I don’t think you’re gonna do anything to me if we sleep in that bed together.”

Alistair’s heart melts, just a little, at her words. He’s not sure he’s ever had anyone say something that sincere to him before—other than Eamond, but he doesn’t count his uncle. “Really?”

She nods. “Really.”

“Well, uh, okay then,” he says lamely. 

But nonetheless Artemi smiles as he stumbles over his words. “Want to watch some TV? It’s still a little too early to go to sleep.” 

“Sounds good to me.”

Artemi gives him a nod before grabbing some pajamas and ducking into the bathroom again. Alistair in turn sifts through his clothes, trying to find something that he can use to sleep in. He grimaces as he realizes he didn’t really pack too much leisure wear, considering the nature of the conference. The first thing he finds is a pair of swim trunks, but immediately puts them aside, not thinking they’d be incredibly comfortable. Finally, he uncovers a pair of basketball shorts that he wasn’t aware he packed. “Thank the Maker,” he murmurs.

Alistair hears the click of the bathroom door being unlocked and looks up to see Artemi stepping out. He blushes profusely as he realizes this is the first time he’s seen a girl in her pajamas. Sure, she’s wearing just a pair of old shorts and a t-shirt, but Artemi looks good in _anything_. Humming to herself, she smooths out her clothes from the day before carefully hanging them back up in the closet. “Where are your dress shirts?”

That question yanks Alistair back to reality. “What?”

“Your dress shirts,” Artemi repeats. “You haven’t hung them up.”

“Oh, those. I’ve got them folded neatly in one of the drawers.”

Artemi frowns. “They’ll wrinkle.”

“They’ll be fine,” Alistair reassures her. “Wrinkles are the least of my worries.”

“No, that won’t do,” she insists. “Let’s get those hung up.” Alistair tries to protest again, but Artemi is already standing by him and grabbing his shirts out of the drawer. “We have plenty of hangers,” Artemi says. “And it’s better for the shirts if we hang them up.”

Alistair eventually realizes that this is not an argument he is going to win, and instead helps Artemi with his shirts. She’s very particular about hanging them up, ensuring that they keep their shape on the hanger, and having them all face the same way.

“Better,” she says with a proud smile. “Just be glad I’m not making you do this with your pants as well.”

“Why would I hang my pants up?”

Artemi rolls her eyes, letting out an exaggerated and exasperated sigh. “Wrinkles, Alistair. Now, go get ready for bed.” She nudges him with her shoulder, much of her previous nervousness gone. 

“All right, all right,” he says, conceding defeat. 

Artemi watches as Alistair gathers up his things and heads into the bathroom. After hearing the lock click shut, she goes over to the bed before plopping rather unceremoniously onto it. “Goodness gracious,” she says, words muffled by the pillow in her face. “This is going to be a long week.”

A few minutes later, Artemi hears Alistair rustling in the room once again. She takes this as a sign to properly bundle herself under the covers as opposed to lying atop them, face down in a pillow. 

“Do you want the extra blanket or pillows at all?” Alistair asks. “I realized that they’re still on the floor, so I figured I’d ask before putting them away again.”

“Extra blankets are always nice,” Artemi replies. 

Alistair tosses the blanket to her before putting the pillows back in the closet. 

Artemi has claimed the left side of the bed, leaving Alistair the right. He crawls under the covers, acutely aware of how little space is between them. He can tell that she’s just as aware as he is.

“So, um, how about that TV?” she asks, looking anywhere but Alistair.

“Is there anything you like to watch?”

She shrugs. “As long as it’s not super gore-y or going to give me a nightmare, I can handle it.”

They eventually settle on a cooking show, something nice and easy to have on in the background.

“Do you cook at all?” Alistair asks.

Artemi shakes her head. “I’ve never really had a need to,” she says. “What about you?”

“Some, yeah. We had servants at the house growing up, but I spent a lot of time in the kitchens with them because they would let me sample the food as they were cooking.” He smiles at some distant memory. “I’m sure Eamond told them to let me be there unless I was a nuisance, but I like to think that I had a pretty good relationship with most of the kitchen staff by the time I left for college. The head chef even tutored me when I took a cooking class in high school.”

“That’s sweet,” Artemi says, and Alistair detects a note of bitterness in her voice. “We weren’t really allowed to do stuff like that. My old nanny, aptly named Nan, eventually took charge of the kitchens once Fergus and I were too old for her care, but even then, she shooed us out. I know she never really liked my Mabari sniffing around. Can’t say I blame her, though, Percy loved sneaking around and getting into things he shouldn’t have.”

“You have a Mabari?” Alistair asks. 

Artemi nods. “Yeah! He’s a good boy, and my mom and dad send me pictures of him all the time. They say he’s inconsolable for a few days every time I leave to come back to school.” She laughs softly. “I’m pretty sad without him around, that’s for sure.”

Their conversation lulls after that, and eventually Alistair goes to ask Artemi a question and sees that she is sound asleep, curled up on her side. He smiles at the sight of her, hair splayed over the pillow, and face peaceful in sleep.

Maker, he knows he’s got it bad.

When Artemi stirs the next morning, she almost wishes she hadn’t, enjoying the envelope of warmth around her. Groggily, she nestles herself closer into the warmth. After a few moments, she cracks an eye open. 

And sees Alistair, almost nose to nose with her, his arms wrapped around her.

The sight wakes her up faster than any alarm clock ever has. 

Still, she finds herself unable to move.

There is something so simple and comforting about Alistair’s embrace that makes her never want to leave it. So, she closes her eyes again and does her best to feign sleep until it’s actually time for her to get up and out of bed.

Alistair’s arms bring her closer still, allowing her to rest her head in the crook of his neck. She suppresses a giggle, surprised at just how snuggly he is.

Eventually, the alarm on her phone begins to chime. Alistair’s eyes flutter open, and he stiffens. 

“Artemi, I-I’m so sorry, oh my goodness—”

“Alistair,” Artemi says, cutting his apology short. She places a hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine.”

“But you said you trusted me and—”

“Alistair,” she says again, hoping that her voice will ground him. “I mean it.”

Her reassurance doesn’t stop Alistair from climbing out of bed almost immediately, still stammering an apology. He grabs some clothes and rushes into the bathroom.

Artemi rolls onto her back and sighs at the ceiling. “That could have gone better,” she muses. Still, she figures Alistair will be in the bathroom for a while to recover, so she takes the time to change and at least get started on her make up for the day. She chooses a dark green skirt and a cream sweater, along with black tights and a pair of smart-looking ankle boots. Comfortable enough to walk around a large venue, but still professional. As she braids her hair, she sighs, wondering if she was forward enough with Alistair. She’s liked him for, what, at least a year now? Ever since he stood up to the Howe boy for constantly belittling Leliana. Artemi had always seen and known Alistair before that, but there was something about his fierce determination that everyone be treated with kindness and respect that made her blush. She was overjoyed and overwhelmed when it was announced that the two of them were chosen for this conference. Despite assuming it was because of their last names, Artemi is still excited that she gets so spend the week with Alistair.

Oh, well. She figures she’ll just have to try harder to get him to notice.

He doesn’t give her much chance, though. 

Alistair is awkward through the rest of their getting ready, breakfast, and even when they sit down for the first lecture. He ensures there’s a respectable distance between himself and Artemi, even though they’re in rows of chairs connected to one another. However, Artemi doesn’t get a moment to reassure Alistair because almost as soon as they’re settled the lights dim and the presenter walks onto the stage.

Artemi grimaces as she recognizes Rendon Howe, one of her father’s friends and allies. Artemi’s never really liked Howe all too much, for he reminds her just a little too much of a rat. Nathaniel seems fine when he isn’t parroting his father, but still. There’s something about the Howe family that rubs her the wrong way.

But, she supposes, the Howes have been in Fereldan leadership near as long as hers, so the patriarch of the family would be knowledgeable enough to give a talk on the history of it.

The talk takes three of the most powerful and influential families of the last century—the Theirins, Couslands, and Mac Tirs—and goes into details of their family trees, what power they hold and why, and what policies and changes the families have put into effect.

Artemi blushes and slinks a little further into her seat as her and Fergus’ names are said, and a picture of each of them is on a slide for the whole lecture hall to see. Alistair notices that a few of the people around them sneak glances at the noble girl, and a fierce need to protect her bubbles up in him.

He shoves it down, though, fully aware that Artemi can handle herself.

Later, though, it is Alistair’s turn to feel embarrassed, cheeks burning in mortification as his name is disdainfully said, almost like Rendon Howe considers him a stain upon the Theirin name. Artemi places a comforting hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. She smiles at him encouragingly, and that is all he needs.

Both of them listen to the various successes of people with the same names as them. Alistair wonders just what he did to deserve to be related to people that influential; Artemi wonders if she will be able to live up to the standards set by those before her.

Thankfully, though, the talk lasts only an hour. Howe thanks everyone for listening before bowing and leaving the stage. The lights come back on not long after, and, much to both of their chagrin, many of the heads of the people sitting around them turn in their direction. 

Most of them are addressing Artemi with a “oh, my young Lady Cousland,” and a bow of the head. The rest of them are eyeing Alistair with suspicion, like they wonder just what this bastard will do.

Artemi does her best to draw the attention to herself and away from Alistair, for which he is grateful. He watches as she smiles politely at everyone, answers their questions, and seems like she takes their advice to heart. Thankfully, there is another talk starting in the same room soon, which Artemi uses as her chance to escape the patronizing conversations. She grabs Alistair by the wrist before apologizing just sincerely enough to the person who is attempting to speak with her, and all but dragging her friend out of the lecture hall.

The hallway is significantly less crowded, and Artemi leans against the wall, hand still around Alistair’s wrist, at the first opportunity. “Wading politely through nobles always makes me tired,” she tells him, side-eyeing him. “They’re only talking to me because I’m a Cousland. I’m sure they’d be happier meeting Fergus, considering he’s already got a career in the politics of Fereldan, and I’m still just a student.” Upon hearing footsteps, Artemi straightens herself and drops Alistair’s wrist, ever-aware of the reputation she must uphold. 

“At least they’re actually speaking to you, as opposed to just silently judging,” Alistair says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’d prefer they just tell me they think I’m a stain upon the Theirin name and a threat to Cailan’s power to my face, instead of just staring at me.”

“You’re not that,” Artemi says firmly, locking eyes with Alistair. “You are not.”

Alistair shrugs nonchalantly, and it is a movement that uses his whole upper body. He drops his eyes to the floor, choosing to study his shoes. “You don’t have to tell me that. It’s everyone else who thinks that. I don’t even _want_ what Cailan has.”

Artemi tilts her head to the side. “Really?”

Alistair nods. “Yeah, really. Being in charge of a whole country doesn’t really interest me.”

“That’s fair, I suppose,” she muses. “I’ve never really had to worry about being the teyrn, what with Fergus being the eldest.”

“Cailan’s older than me, anyway,” Alistair says. “Only way I get to rule is if he dies before he and Anora have any children.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

The silence is heavy in the air between them.

“Should we get going to the next talk?” Alistair eventually asks, bringing his eyes back to Artemi.

She notices something in his eyes, but she can’t quite put a name to it. “I think that’s a good idea.” She adjusts her skirt and ensures that everything she needs is in her purse, trying to keep her hands busy.

It’s a few minutes’ walk to the next conference room, but since there’s still a bit of time before the Tevinter politics lecture, Artemi and Alistair mosey over. There is a bit more small talk between them, but it is nothing of substance.

While Artemi finds the subject of comparing the past and present policies of Tevinter fascinating, she can’t get over the look in Alistair’s eyes from before. Slightly hopeful, slightly wistful, and slightly sad. 

Why did he look at her that way?

“Artemi.”

She jumps, startled. “Yes?”

Alistair, tilts his head, concerned. “Are you all right?”

“What? Oh, yes. I’m fine.” She hopes the blush she feels pooling in her cheeks is not as noticeable as she fears it is.

“Okay,” Alistair says softly. “Do you want to get some lunch? There’s an hour break before the mortalitasi demonstration you wanted to go to, and that looks like it’s going to last for three or four hours. Eating would probably be good before that.”

She nods. “Yeah, lunch sounds great.”

They stop at one of the vendors in the halls, buying ham sandwiches and water before finding a semi-secluded bench away from the hustle and bustle of the conference.

Their lunch is eaten mostly in silence after Alistair makes sure that Artemi is enjoying her food.

Unfortunately, their bench becomes less and less secluded the longer they sit there. Word must have spread that the daughter of one of the most powerful people in Fereldan was at the conference with the bastard of Maric Theirin. People start passing by, obviously trying to look like they aren’t curious about Artemi and Alistair, but not doing a very good job of hiding it. Eventually, Artemi tires of the wandering eyes and grabs Alistair by the wrist again, dragging him away. 

“It’s about time we start heading to the mortalitasi demonstration, anyway,” she tells him with a huff. “Maker, I wish the nobility wasn’t so judge-y.”

Alistair shrugs after regaining his footing. “It’s nothing I’m not used to.”

“Which upsets me,” Artemi says, stamping her foot on the ground. “These people don’t even _know_ you, so why are they judging you? It’s not _your_ fault that your father had sex with someone that wasn’t his wife. They shouldn’t judge you based on how you came into this world when you didn’t have any choice in the matter.”

“Uh, thanks I guess?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I’m sorry!” She smooths the edges of her skirt again, blushing profusely.

Alistair smiles at her. “It’s fine, Artemi,” he says.

“Temi,” she says, eyes still trained on the floor.

“Pardon?”

“Call me Temi, please. Artemi sounds too formal coming from you.”

“Temi, huh?”

She nods. “Yeah. It’s what my family and most of my friends call me.”

“All right then, Temi,” he says, testing the new name on his tongue as he suppresses a blush of his own. Friends? It’s a step in the right direction.

The mortalitasi demonstration is amazing. Artemi had always been fascinated with the Nevarran custom, but seeing the mages’ display takes her breath away. There is, of course, something morbid about it, but that doesn’t deter her. It’s still pretty cool.

It’s late, however, by the time their last event of the day is over. As Artemi stands, she places her hands against the small of her back and stretches. “Want to just order room service?” she asks, turning her attention to Alistair, standing on her tippy toes. 

Alistair stretches his neck, tilting his head from side to side. “That sounds easy enough.”

Back in the room, both once again dressed in their respective pajamas, Artemi scans the room service menu. “It looks like a lot of the same stuff from the restaurant, but there’s more, too,” she tells Alistair. 

“Would it be too basic of me to suggest we just get grilled cheese and soup?”

Artemi laughs. “That sounds nice and comforting after how long today was.”

Just like Artemi said, the soup is warm and delicious, and just what they needed after a long day.

The next morning, Artemi awakens to see Alistair on his side, back to her. She takes a moment to admire the muscles there, relaxed in sleep. And then she snuggles against him, nuzzling her nose in the space between his shoulder blades for just a fleeting moment before scooting back and getting out of the bed, careful not to wake him. She knows her alarm will go off soon.

The rest of the day passes pretty similarly to the first; Alistair and Artemi attend a few different talks—one on the five most important skills for leadership, one on the history of Orlesian royalty, and another on Chantry censorship. 

They order room service again that night, but this time they enjoy a full-on breakfast for dinner in bed.

The following days are just as uneventful as the second; the two enjoy more talks and demonstrations of Thedosian history and culture, and they do their best to dodge the prying eyes of everyone at the conference.

On the fourth night, as they bundle under the covers, Artemi’s phone dings as she receives a text message.

“Who is it?” Alistair asks.

“My brother,” she says, brow furrowed. “He’s apparently doing a demonstration tomorrow along with…” Her voice trails off.

“Along with?”

Artemi is silent.

“Temi, I could just pull up the schedule myself and find out if you don’t tell me,” he says.

“Cailan,” she whispers.

Alistair’s eyes widen. “I see.”

“He asked if I want to get lunch tomorrow.”

“Do you?”

“Do _you_?”

“Excuse me?”

Artemi eyes Alistair intently. “I have no intentions of leaving you to be swarmed by the masses of nobles wanting a glimpse of you,” she says firmly.

“I can take care of myself,” Alistair insists.

“And while I’m aware of that, I would like you to be at lunch with me and Fergus tomorrow, if you don’t mind.” Her jaw is set and Alistair can see that she will not budge.

“Don’t you think that, well, he might be _scandalized_ being seen with a bastard such as myself?”

“He’ll survive. In fact, if you’re so worried about it, I’ll message him back right now and let him know that you’ll be there, too.” She starts diligently typing away at her phone, and Alistair waits with bated breath. “He’s fine with it,” Temi informs him after a few texts back and forth. “Though…there _is_ a chance Cailan might be there as well, seeing as they’re partnered tomorrow. Are you all right with that?”

Alistair can do little to hide his grimace. “Cailan and I have, well, never really interacted before, at least not in such a public context. He doesn’t seem to dislike me, though, if that counts for anything.”

Artemi meets his eyes, and he finds himself comforted by the confidence he sees in them. “If he tries to say anything or cause any problems, I’ll do my best to put a stop to it right then and there.”

“I appreciate it,” Alistair says. He puts an hand on Temi’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze.

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment before throwing an arm around his shoulder and giving him as good a side-hug she can. “Always.”

And with that she rolls over onto her side, back to him, and goes to bed. 

In the morning, Artemi once again wakes up in Alistair’s arms. She smiles, enjoying this secret experience. Ever since that first morning, she’s wished for this. This warmth, this comfort. There is something overwhelmingly calming about being held by someone she cares for.

However, she does not wish for him to wake upset again, so she slides out of his embrace, missing it as soon as she’s gone. So, she places a hand on his arm and shakes. “Alistair.”

“Mm.”

“Alistair.”

“What?” he asks, voice thick with sleep.

“We never talked about what we wanted to go to today,” she says. “It’s the last day, so I’d like to go to as many things as we can.”

He mumbles something that she can’t understand.

“What?”

“You pick,” he repeats. “I sleep.”

Artemi smiles at his comment, nose scrunching and eyes crinkling. “I suppose that means the class on how to properly drink tea in Orlais is on the table then?”

Alistair cracks an eye open at that. “You’re cruel,” he says. But nonetheless he keeps his eye open and focused on her. “Other than that _wonderful_ class, is there anything else that seems interesting?”

“I would like to go to Fergus’ and Cailan’s class, if you don’t mind. They’re going to be talking about knight and guard training, along with some swordplay demonstrations that I would like to see. Fergus is talented, but I have to say that I think it would be fun to watch him fight against someone who is on or above his level for once.”

Alistair nods. “Anything else?”

“There’s a history of the Circles and the roles Templars play in them, one on the most famous pirates out of Rivain, and something here about how trade with Orzammar affects trade on the surface.”

“Those all sound fine,” he mumbles. “Is there much time before we have to get up for them?”

“You’ve got about twenty more minutes.”

Alistair grumbles. 

“You could just get up now and have a little bit more time for breakfast,” she says.

“All right, all right,” he relents. “Temi, you’re determined, aren’t you?”

She shrugs before flashing him a winning smile that makes his heart flutter. “Maybe.”

Alistair watches as Temi slides off the edge of the bed, noticing how the t-shirt rides up and reveals the small of her back.

It takes a few seconds before he can think of anything else.

They take their time getting ready that morning, the extra few minutes allowing them to not rush as much as normal. 

“Fergus and Cailan’s class should be the last of the day,” Artemi tells Alistair as they make their way to the elevator. “First should be the Circles and Templars, then the pirates, then lunch, then Orzammar. All in all, we should be pretty busy until then.”

“Sounds good,” Alistair says with a nod. 

The first two talks pass by rather unceremoniously. Fewer people are trying to sneak glances at Alistair and Artemi compared to the first few days of the conference. It seems like the hype is fading, for which he is grateful.

As they stand outside the dining hall, Alistair notices Artemi almost obsessively smoothing creases from her skirt.

“Temi,” he says.

“What?” She looks up quickly, obviously having been pulled from her thoughts.

“Temi,” Alistair repeats. “It’s going to be fine.”

She blushes a bright red. “Oh, um, I know.”

Alistair nudges her shoulder with his own. “You said it yourself, so it has to be true.”

A corner of Artemi’s mouth tugs up in a wry smile as she looks at Alistair. “That’s fair.”

“Temi!” A voice calls, interrupting the pair. 

Artemi scans the crowd to find her brother. His brown hair is stylishly tousled, and he’s dressed in a simple button down and slacks. She grins as her eyes land on him, and she bounds over to him, embracing him warmly. “Fergus!”

Fergus hugs her back just as tightly. “It’s good to see you, Temi,” he says. His gaze shifts from his sister to Alistair. “That him?”

Temi blushes again. “Yes, it is,” she says softly. “Please be nice to him.”

“Well, if my little sister likes this boy, there must be something special about him.” 

She scowls at him, previous embarrassment gone. “Just don’t go announcing that to everyone. I’m sure he doesn’t even realize it yet.”

“Temi, _please_ ,” Fergus says. “You’re wonderful. If he doesn’t like you back, he’s just wrong.”

“Fergus,” she says, exasperated. “You’re not helping.”

Fergus grins as only a sibling can at the expense of another. “I know. Now, he looks like he’s going to be sick, standing there by himself. Shall we rescue him?”

Temi nods. “I think he’d appreciate it.” She leads her brother back to Alistair. “Fergus, this is Alistair.”

Fergus extends a hand, which greatly surprises Alistair. Most people don’t treat him with this much civility. He takes it, and gives what he hopes is a strong handshake. “Pleased to meet you,” Fergus says.

“Likewise,” Alistair says with a dip of his head. 

The three quickly make their way through the lunch line before snagging a table to themselves. “I don’t think anyone here is going to bother us,” Fergus says as he scans the crowd. “I know a lot of the people here.”

“More than I do,” Alistair says.

“Graduate and you’ll find yourself in the same boat as me.”

“How are Mom and Dad doing, Fergus?” Artemi asks, hoping to change the subject.

“They’re doing well as of yesterday,” he says. “Oriana and Oren are as well, before you ask. Oren has been asking all about you.”

“Has he really?”

Fergus nods, grinning as he thinks of his son. “Indeed. He misses you while you’re away at school, you know. As does Percy. I think those two have found friends in each other, at least.”

“Aw, that sounds like Percy,” Artemi says, laughing. “He always did like kids.”

After a few minutes of eating, Fergus turns his attention to Alistair. “So, Alistair.”

Alistair finds he has trouble swallowing his food. “Um, yes?”

“Temi here hasn’t been making this week too hard you, has she?”

“Hey, I would never—”

“I asked him, not you.”

Alistair almost sighs in relief. He’s not sure what Fergus was going to ask, but this seems like the least harmful option. “Not at all, really. In fact, she’s been a wonderful companion throughout the whole thing.” He doesn’t miss the look that passes between Fergus and Temi, even if he doesn’t quite understand what it means. “Having her around has definitely helped save me from most of the people who want to gawk at Maric Theirin’s bastard son.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Fergus muses. “Though, from what I know, people gawk because they don’t know what they’re talking about. They don’t know you and don’t wish to; they just want to guess.”

“That’s what I said, but better,” Temi says.

“Better?”

The tips of Temi’s ears turn pink. “Definitely better. Don’t worry about how.”

Fergus smirks, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve always had a way with words, haven’t I?”

“If we weren’t in a public place, I would throw one of these chips at you,” she fusses.

“Sounds like victory to me.”

“We’ve got to get going to the next talk,” Artemi tells Fergus as they finish eating and have thrown their trash away. “And, before you ask, don’t worry, we’ll be at the one you and Cailan are doing later.”

“I’ll see you then,” Fergus says before giving Temi another tight embrace. After letting her go, he reaches out to shake Alistair’s hand again. “It was nice to meet you, Alistair.”

“It was nice to meet you, too, Fergus,” Alistair says, accepting the handshake.

“I’m sure I’ll be hearing more about you,” Fergus says with a knowing smile before turning and seamlessly melding into the crowd.

“More about me?” Alistair asks, turning to Temi just in time to find her blushing like mad. He can’t help but find her cute as she fumbles her way through an explanation. 

“Let’s just get going to the next talk,” she says, eyes looking anywhere other than Alistair.

The talk on Orzammar’s trade policies and how they affect trade on the surface is not nearly as interesting as Artemi and Alistair had hoped it would be. At the end, they almost jump out of their seats at the opportunity to leave the room.

“Fergus’ bit takes place outside,” Temi informs Alistair. “There’s a lovely courtyard where he and Cailan have everything set up, I believe.”

“It’ll be nice to get outside for a change,” Alistair says. “We’ve been cooped up inside all week.”

The pair makes their way from the lecture hall to the courtyard. It’s nice, just like Temi said it would be. There are towering trees that provide just enough shade from a sun; a large marble fountain with a statue of Andraste, water pouring from a bowl in her hands to the pool at her feet; lush and beautiful flowerbeds filled with more flowers than Alistair has ever seen; and ample seating, both benches and tables with chairs. The center has been cleared for the moment, the concrete bare except for the tools Fergus and Cailan will need for their show. 

After taking in the scenery, Temi places a hand on Alistair’s arm, reminding him of her presence. “I’m gonna go say hi again to Fergus, if that’s all right with you? You can join me if you wish, but if you want to go ahead and snag us some seats, that’s fine too.”

Alistair places his hand atop hers for a brief moment. “I’ll find the seats,” he tells her with a smile. 

Temi’s cheeks turn that cute, cute shade of pink again and she slips her hand from beneath his. “Sounds good,” she says before turning away. She reaches Fergus and Cailan quickly, since not many other people are in the courtyard yet. “Hello, good sir,” she says as she approaches him.

Fergus turns, smiling as he sees his little sister. “Hello, good madam,” he replies.

She gives him a quick hug. “Just wanted to say hello again before you got busy,” she says.

“No Alistair with you this time?”

“No,” she fusses, flushing again. “He said he wanted to grab seats for us.”

“Mm, I see,” Fergus says with a nod that he hopes make him look wiser than he is. “He’s a nice boy, you know.”

“I do know,” Temi mumbles. “A very nice boy indeed.”

“Fergus, who are you talking to?”

Temi and Fergus turn to the speaker. Temi _knows_ she shouldn’t be surprised to see Cailan Theirin confidently striding towards them. It’s not like this is the first time she’s ever met him, either. She and Fergus both spent a fair amount of time around Cailan growing up. But, it still startles her just how much he and Alistair look alike; the same strong jawline and straight nose and bright eyes, but the things she likes about them on Alistair—the soft, goofy expressions he’ll make, the way his eyes shine when he makes a joke—she’s never noticed in Cailan. She knows Cailan also cracks jokes (they’re just as terrible as Alistair’s, really), but it’s…different. The goofy softness that she likes so much about Alistair is masked by confidence in Cailan.

Recognition dawns on Cailan’s face after he stares at Temi for long enough. “Oh! Artemi!” he says, smiling kindly at her. “It’s good to see you again. Sorry I didn’t recognize you at first; it’s been a few years.”

Temi bows her head in recognition of Cailan. “It’s good to see you as well. I was just coming by and saying hello to Fergus again before the two of you became too busy.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Cailan pauses, looks like he has something else he wants to say, but is just not quite sure how. After a moment, though, he says, “I heard that Alistair is here with you.”

Temi nods, unsure of where this conversation is going. “He is. The student ambassadors decided that he and I would be best for this conference.”

“I see, I see.” Cailan is quiet again. “Well, um, could you possibly tell him hello from me? I’m not sure if I’ll be able to speak to him myself. I don’t want to bring any unnecessary attention to him.”

With that simple request, Artemi thinks she understands just a little bit more about Cailan and Alistair both. “Of course,” she says. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear from you.”

Cailan smiles, and there is something about the softness in his expression that makes Artemi happy that she was able to speak with him just now, however brief. At this moment, though, a large group of people enter the courtyard and Cailan checks his watch. “Ah,” he says. “It’s about that time.” Turning to Temi, he dips his head in thanks. “If you and Alistair aren’t too busy after the class, feel free to drop by and say hello again.”

“Sure thing,” she says, before giving a short curtsy and making her way back to Alistair.

Alistair looks up from his phone as he hears he sound of Temi’s shoes against the pavement. His face brightens when he sees her, and he says, “I was just about to text you. How has Fergus been doing since we last saw him two hours ago?”

“He’s well,” Temi says as she takes a seat on the bench next to Alistair. There are a few people on the benches to either side and behind them, but no one is bothering them yet. “And…” she trails off, choosing her words carefully. Alistair doesn’t interrupt, understanding that she needs a moment. “Cailan says hello, too.”

Alistair’s eyebrows raise so fast he knows he can’t mask his surprise. “Did he really?”

Temi nods. “Yeah. He said that if we weren’t busy after all this, he’d like to see us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, us.”

Alistair purses his lips, thinking. “So long as you’re okay with watching me and my half-brother awkwardly shuffle around each other as we have always done, even before he knew we were brothers and not cousins.”

“I don’t think it’ll be that bad, Alistair,” she says, trying to mollify him. “Cailan suggested the idea, so I’m sure he’s sincere.”

“Let’s hope so,” Alistair says. He doesn’t get to elaborate, though, because the topic of their conversation calls for everyone’s attention.

Temi watches as Alistair tenses at the sight of his half-brother. She notices that it’s not malicious, just nervous. She reaches over slowly and takes his hand before giving it a gentle squeeze. That breaks the spell over him, and he smiles softly at her, squeezing her hand back.

Neither of them lets go.

Cailan, with Fergus at his side, gives a brief description of the history of knights and the guard in Fereldan, along with names of a few of the more well-known ones. Fergus explains how, as the heir of Highever, he was trained from a young age to assist Cailan in leading the knights, guards, and other forces of Fereldan. 

Alistair leans over to Temi. “Did you get any of that training?” he whispers in her ear. 

“A little,” she says back. “I definitely know my way around a sword, but I’m nowhere near as good as Cailan or Fergus. What about you?”

Alistair nods. “Some. Not as much as them, obviously, but Eamond made sure I was trained as well. Even if it is all just for looks now-a-days.”

“Why train a bastard?” says a voice behind them.

Alistair stiffens _immediately_ , and Temi whips around and glares at the speaker, a man she doesn’t recognize who is grinning easily. “That is _no_ concern of yours, stranger,” she says angrily. “Besides, this is a private conversation.”

“Oh, well, _excuse me_ , sweetheart,” he drawls.

Temi fumes silently at that remark. “Just because you think that talking down on someone you don’t know anything about makes you a better person doesn’t mean a thing. I’d rather spend my time with this _bastard_ , as you call him, than with someone who’s head is so far up his own ass he thinks that his opinion matters.”

The man’s grin vanishes, his mouth forming a perfect and indignant O instead. “Who do you—”

“Artemi Cousland,” she says coolly, with the most noble expression Alistair has ever seen. “So be careful how you speak to me and my companions.” She turns back around at this, effectively cutting off the conversation. After a few seconds, she says, “I’m sorry, Alistair.”

“What? Why?”

“People like that just drive me _crazy_. I hate it when they assume that they know someone simply because of what they’ve heard. You’re a _much_ better person that he could ever know. You’re kind, caring, and sweet, which is more than he can say for himself.”

Alistair finds himself at a loss for words. Temi thinks he’s sweet? 

He thinks she’s sweet.

“That’s…kind of you,” he says eventually. “Thank you.”

Temi smiles at him, and there is more affection in that simple gesture than he expected. “You’re welcome.”

Alistair remembers, at this point, that they’re still holding hands.

Well, if she hasn’t taken her hand back, neither will he.

The clang of steel on steel brings the pair back to the display at hand. Cailan and Fergus, sleeves rolled up, are each holding an expertly crafted longsword and demonstrating some of the different moves that knights or guards or soldiers would learn. Everyone’s attention is on the two men, and Alistair is thankful for their captivating presence. He wouldn’t have wanted Temi’s fiery words to cause a scene.

After showing their prowess for swordplay, Fergus and Cailan take a seat on a bench, and turn to the audience for questions. A few nobles from other countries—Orlais, Nevarra, Rivain—ask questions about training in the past versus present, the point of a military in such peaceful times, and other topics that Alistair figures matter if one is of consequence. Eventually, the two take their last question, before thanking everyone for coming to their session. 

Alistair and Temi loiter about their bench—Temi glares at the man from earlier as he leaves—while they wait for the crowd to thin around Fergus and Cailan. 

“It sure is taking a while,” Temi notes. “I guess a lot of people want to talk to them.”

“Seems that way,” Alistair agrees. 

It takes a little while longer, but eventually the rest of the crowd trickles out, leaving just the two pairs of siblings behind. 

Temi places a hand on Fergus’ shoulder before congratulating him on a successful show.

Alistair and Cailan awkwardly shuffle around each other.

“Does dinner sound like a good idea?” Fergus asks the group. “Since it’s the last night, some people are already leaving, so we shouldn’t run into too much trouble.”

“Dinner sounds wonderful, yes,” Temi says. “Since we’re already here, we can just go to the restaurant in the hotel again. Alistair and I were there the other night, and it’s really a lovely place. The food is extraordinary.”

Alistair nods in agreement. “It was all very delicious, yes.”

“Sounds good to me, then,” Cailan says. 

Temi and Fergus fall into an easy conversation that they are effortlessly able to integrate Cailan and Alistair into as well. 

Their wait at the restaurant is even shorter than it was the day Alistair and Artemi went by themselves. The hostess seems like she might faint as Cailan approaches her desk and asks for a table for four. They’re very quickly seated, almost every head turning their way as Cailan and the others walk to a secluded booth in the back of the restaurant. The hostess hands them their menus before giving a quick bow and heading back to her station.

“If Anora were here, she’d probably say something about how those people need to mind their business,” Cailan says with a laugh.

“How is she doing, by the way?” Temi asks. Her question surprises Alistair, but after a moment he realizes that it shouldn’t; they all grew up together.

“She’s well, thanks for asking. I think she’s glad that I’ve been here for the past few days; it gives her some time to do things around the house that she and the servants probably wouldn’t normally do if I were there.”

“Such as?” Fergus asks.

“Rearranging the furniture,” Cailan says. He smiles, and the love he feels for his wife is written all over his face. 

“I’m glad to hear that she’s well, though,” Temi says. 

Dinner is just as delicious as it was the first time, and the conversation is much easier than Artemi expected it to be. She’s happy about that, though, about the relative ease with which the four converse, even if it is mainly her and Fergus doing the talking. Eventually, though, their food is eaten and they fall into a lull. 

Cailan is the first to break the comfortable silence. “I should probably be leaving soon,” he says. 

“Since we rode here together, that would be my cue as well,” Fergus says. 

With that, they all rise from their booth and leave the restaurant, the quiet eyes of the rest of the patrons watching them go.

Fergus throws an arm around Temi’s shoulder, leading her away from Cailan and Alistair. “We should give them a moment,” he says just loud enough for her to hear. “Cailan seemed like he had something he wanted to say.”

Temi peeks at Cailan and Alistair over Fergus’ arm, hoping that Alistair will be all right. 

“He’ll be fine, Temi,” Fergus reassures her. “Cailan means him no harm.”

“I know,” she whispers. “Doesn’t mean I can’t help but worry.”

Alistair watches as Temi smiles up at Fergus before turning back to Cailan. “So, um, thanks for dinner,” he says awkwardly.

“Oh, of course, of course. It was no problem.”

The silence that hangs in the air between them is heavy with awkward tension. 

“Is there…is there something you needed?” Alistair asks after a few seconds. “Sorry, I’m not very good at this either.”

Cailan lets out a laugh at Alistair’s question, the tension easing out of his shoulders. “To think, we never had much trouble talking to each other as children, before…everything. I suppose, though, what I am trying to say is that it’s good to see you, Alistair.” Cailan meets his half-brother’s eyes as he says this, and Alistair can see the sincerity in them. “No one here gave you much trouble, correct?”

Alistair shakes his head. “There were many wandering eyes, but no one was bold enough to say anything.”

Cailan lets out a sigh. “Good. While you’re not—” He cuts himself off, obviously choosing his words carefully. “I would hate for someone to give you trouble over something so trivial.”

A smile ghost’s across Alistair’s lips. While he knows things are awkward for him and Cailan, there’s something comforting about the caring nature of his older brother. “Thank you.”

“And that Artemi is quite the catch,” Cailan adds, a playful grin plastered on his mouth.

“I-what?” Alistair stammers, hunching his shoulders to try and hide his blush.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Cailan says. “You look at her the way that people say I look at Anora. And _she_ looks at you with about as much affection as I think she could.” Cailan nudges Alistair’s shoulder with his own, the action bringing his brother back to reality. “You should talk to her about it.”

“I, um…” Alistair glances over at Temi to see the girl grinning widely at something her brother says. 

“Like that,” Cailan says. “That face right there. Just _talk_ to her. There’s no harm in it.”

“Sure,” Alistair breathes, bringing his attention back to Cailan. It’s the first real advice he’s gotten from his brother, and he’s not about to spurn it. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Good,” Cailan says, and his tone of voice indicates that the conversation is over. “Fergus and I should be heading back.”

Alistair and Cailan make eye contact one final time before heading over to the Cousland siblings. 

“Hey!” Temi says, eyes shining as she smiles brightly. “I suppose it’s time to go, isn’t it?” She turns to Fergus and they hug again. She grasps his arms before leaning in and kissing her brother on the cheek. “Be safe, all right?” She turns her head to Cailan. “Be sure to let me know if he does anything stupid.”

“Temi, _please_ ,” Fergus says. “Cailan’s the one that does all the stupid stuff.”

“Oh, shut up,” Cailan says. “She’s right, though. It’s time for us to go.” Cailan turns to Alistair and Artemi. “Good luck with the rest of the semester.” And with that, they turn to go, leaving Alistair and Artemi alone in the hallway, with nothing more than each other and the ambient noise of the restaurant.

“So, it’s our last night here,” Temi says. “Our plane doesn’t leave till the afternoon, though, so there’s no need for us to get to bed early.”

Alistair extends his arm to her, just like before, and she readily takes it, just like before. “Is there anything you want to do?”

“Well,” Artemi begins as they side step down the hall to the elevator, “I was thinking of going swimming tonight. Since we haven’t been able to go all week, and there won’t be a lot of people here, I figured it would be a good time.”

“Swimming?”

“Yeah,” Temi affirms as they board the elevator. “Swimming sounds nice.”

“Then swim we shall.”

It takes a few more minutes of getting to their room and getting changed, but soon Alistair and Artemi find themselves on the elevator again, this time taking them to the rooftop pool. They stand a few feet apart, both of them finding the elevator just a little too small. It doesn’t take long before they reach the pool.

“Huh, there really _is_ no one else here,” Temi says as she steps off the elevator and onto the textured concrete. She pads over to one of the many beach chairs surrounding the pool and lays down her towel before slipping off her sandals. Alistair does his best to look anywhere other than Temi as he follows her, trying to give her some semblance of privacy as she pulls her long t-shirt over her head. He does the same, and then they just stand there for a moment, trying their best not to be awkward.

Alistair has never felt as exposed as he does now, standing in only his swim trunks as the warm night breeze tousles his hair. “So, um, swimming?”

Temi rubs a hand on her arm. “Swimming sounds great.” And with that she tears her eyes away from him, takes a running start, and dives into the pool. She resurfaces a few seconds later, big grin on her face. “The water’s actually rather warm,” she calls, shaking her head and splashing water everywhere. 

The lights from the sides of the pool keep her well-lit, and Alistair marvels at what he sees. He’s always found Temi beautiful, but there’s something about the happiness on her face right now that makes his heart flutter. And then he jumps into the pool after her, Temi laughing as she’s jostled around by the waves he creates. When he breaks the surface again, he lets out a loud breath before shaking the water from his hair. “It is warm, that’s for sure.” Temi smiles at him again, and the affection in her eyes makes him blush. He swims over to the steps and hears Temi paddling behind him when he remembers Cailan’s words. “So, Temi,” he begins cautiously.

“Yeah?”

“All, um, all that stuff you said earlier, to that guy, did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“When you called me kind and caring and sweet. Did you mean it?”

Temi flushes a dark red. “Well, um, yeah. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

Tentatively, Alistair raises a hand from the water and cups Temi’s cheek. “Yeah?”

She leans into his touch, closing her eyes for a moment before reopening them and meeting his gaze. “Yeah,” she says before swimming closer to him.

“Artemi,” he says softly, oh so softly.

“Alistair?” Her voice is breathless, nervous.

“Can I kiss you?”

She huffs out a soft laugh before laying her hand over his. “I thought you’d never ask.”

That is all the encouragement he needs. He uses the hand beneath hers to bring her face close. He hesitates at the last second, his lips hovering over hers, before swallowing the lump in his throat and pressing their lips together. Temi lets out a pleased little hum in the back of her throat. It’s short, sweet, simple. They break away, foreheads pressed together.

And then Temi leans back him, lips hard against Alistair’s. She slides her hands around his shoulders, pressing her to him. Her mouth is hungry, needy, and Alistair lets it take until he is dizzy with the taste of her. His arm wraps around her, pulling her as close as he can and settling her on his lap.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Temi pulls away, breathless. Her cheeks are flushed and eyes hazy as she smiles lazily at him. She gives him one more peck on the lips. “Alistair,” she says.

“Hmm?”

“I like you. Quite a bit.”

“Really now?”

She scowls, playfully splashing him with water. “Yes really.”

“Well, that’s rather convenient, seeing as how I like you as well.”

Temi smiles, and it is brighter than any star Alistair has seen before. “Good.”

“Good?”

She nods. “Yes. Good.”

They linger a little longer in the pool, sharing kisses and laughs and smiles, before Temi shivers. “Time to go?” Alistair asks.

“Yeah, I think so.” She slips out of his arms and steps out of the water. Alistair no longer worries about drinking in the sight of her, enjoying everything he sees. Wrapping her towel around herself, she turns back to him. “Coming?” she asks as she walks towards the elevator.

Alistair bobs his head in affirmation. “Yeah, of course.” After he’s dried himself off, he tosses his towel over his shoulders and all but chases after Temi, reaching out and taking her wrist once he catches up. 

“What are you—” she’s interrupted by Alistair gently pressing his lips to hers. When he pulls away and drops her wrist, she giggles. “I see.” 

As they stand in the elevator, side by side, Temi reaches out and takes his hand, intertwining their fingers. They hold hands all the way back to the hotel room, releasing only when deemed necessary to change their clothes and clean up from the pool. Temi leaves the bathroom after her shower, clad in the same pajamas that she’s been wearing all week, but somehow Alistair finds them just as flattering as her bathing suit. 

They crawl into bed together again, and this time, Alistair holds up his arm, allowing Artemi to curl against his chest as they watch TV. He places a kiss to the top of her head, hair still wet. After an episode, though, Artemi’s eyelids begin to droop and she lets out a yawn. “Alistair?”

“Yes?”

“I think it’s bedtime.”

“Seems reasonable.”

Temi smiles contentedly before giving Alistair one last kiss for the night. Her lips linger on his, savoring their taste and touch. “Goodnight,” she says sleepily before rolling onto her side.

Alistair follows her, nestling her against his chest, one hand resting on her belly. “Goodnight.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! i really enjoyed writing this fic even though it took like two weeks longer than it was supposed to, and ended up being like 10,000 words longer than it was supposed to. they say that writers know Everything That Will Happen when they write and that's just a lie
> 
> please please please please please leave a comment or kudos!!


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